infectiOn
by darkenedmoonlightflame
Summary: [AU. Yaoi. Vampirism.] Sasuke is a psychotic boy hung up on the past, cursed with a disease that has him craving blood. Naruto is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. And, regrettably, it seems that Sasuke has taken an interest in him… [SasuNaru]
1. part one

**o.O.o.O**

**infectiO+****n**

**Uchiha Sasuke X Uzumaki Naruto, Uzumaki Naruto X Uchiha Sasuke bias. Shounen-ai and yaoi—don't like, don't read, don't cry.**

**darkenedmoonlightflame**

**[Alternate Universe. Yaoi. Vampirism. "Once he's touched you, the infection—the madness, too—spreads, spreads…" (Uchiha Sasuke is a psychotic boy hung up on the past, cursed with a rare disease that forces upon him sudden cravings for blood. Uzumaki Naruto is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. And now, regrettably, it seems that Sasuke has taken an interest in him…) [SasuNaruSasu. **

_Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, and do not claim to. However, everything else, AKA: the writing, (most of) the (nearly-cliché) plot, et cetera, IS MINE._

(A/N: A new twist on the traditional Vampire!Sasuke-or-Naruto tale. Desperately needed a pick-me-up and couldn't resist. About time to start up the less-than-fashionably-late fireworks anyway. Comments and tea are delicious. Contribute, please? First to guess the title reference gets… a doodle? A drabble? (open to suggestions)

(So, presenting, infectiO+n, part one, which is incredibly short and a prologue… So yeah. Enjoy, hmm?)

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**infectiO+****n**

**part**

**1/x**

* * *

Lurking at the edge of consciousness, Sasuke can barely hear the music. Old, soft, classic. Piano and voice, combined and entwined into Elegance itself. His eyes are closed, his dark eyelashes quite stunning and a flattering contrast to his alabaster skin. Unruly tendrils of obsidian hair have spread out across the bleached bedspread; the vague pre-morning sunlight intrudes and highlights them into a state of bluish-gray. His jaw is refined, lips thin, both set into a disapproving, striking line. 

The dusty record player—he had insisted on it, throwing a fit until the new staff gave in—in the corner falters, skips a note, and plays on.

In the garden, the white flowers—hyacinth, if he recalls correctly—have begun to wither: it's getting to be late fall. Outside, the doctors, computers, chemicals: he hates their presence. Inside, Sasuke can no longer see them—they've learned a bit since his last 'mutiny'—but simply feeling their presence is enough to stretch his tolerance to unacceptable levels. When the woman comes in, today, he doesn't even move.

"Something the matter, Sasuke-sama?"

No reply, and she just grins meekly and clutches at herself protectively, arms crossed and lingering awkwardly in the silence he's grown to love. The crackling of static in the backdrop of the concerto doesn't cover up the sound of her pencil slipping off of her clipboard. Embarrassed or not—because it's impossible for Sasuke to tell from such a lousy angle—she retrieves it and snaps it back into place.

"Not really," The brunette drawls at last. "Not really." She doesn't seem to mind the repetition, instead tucking back and twirling a strand of dark, purplish-black hair. At last she frowns, decisive. Her sterilized, colorless clothes are rumpled, hanging off of her frame. No trace remains of the bright lavenders and wild plum shades she favors so dearly. There are prominent circles beneath her eyes, too, flaws everywhere on her porcelain skin. She hasn't been getting much sleep, Sasuke surmises. He's known this typical, agreeably-unperturbed woman for the equivalent of five years, and she has never once looked so disheveled, torn.

Sasuke is wary. 'What is it? What's going on?' He'd ask, callously of course—except for the fact that an Uchiha doesn't deign to ask such silly questions.

The nurse is troubled. If this were a good day, Sasuke would be smiling wickedly at her uncertainty. But it's not, and so he broods and lunges upward, struggling to support himself against the cold steel rails. The makeshift medical wing groans and rattles alarmingly, the ceiling _thrumming_ thunderously as the monorail above zooms by. "Anou…" She begins, only to be interrupted.

"Spit it out, Shizune-san." The prodigy's tone is venomous, his gaze scathing. She flinches, but not because of his tactlessness. He's said her name, and that makes it harder to imagine that he isn't human. That he isn't just an ordinary person, caught in something far too large. "I'm waiting."

Taking a deep breath, she steels herself to the point of indifference, promising not to care at all when he starts yelling and screaming. To her, it's just one of the inevitable possibilities. Biting her lip, she announces hesitantly, "We're transferring you to a better hospital. In the city. Bigger, you know."

There is no response, but the cassette-radio in the backdrop surges upward into a crescendo.

Nonetheless, she hopes he will understand, and will catch the dark undertones she speaks of.

From his sudden detachment, she knows he does. Matter-of-factly, he's already begun to calculate the risks of fully exploiting such an opportunity.

Sasuke's mouth is down-turned into a grimace, and his voice is constrained and odd as he orders for her to leave. He's distracted, musing and pondering out equations in a world of his own. It's something she wouldn't be able to comprehend, she's absolutely sure of. That's not her place, really, and this world is always reminding her of it.

So instead of wishing him 'good luck', she wordlessly obeys, purposefully neglecting to lock the door. Her dark eyes are half-lidded as she walks slowly down the dim and shabby corridor, guilt-ridden and sad beneath the mechanically-florescent afterglow. She tries to whisper the twenty-third paragraph of the fifteenth article of Hospice Experimentation Conditions-Phrases-Fundamental Rules to herself. It's part of her job qualification to have it memorized.

But for now it's difficult to concentrate on the technicalities, and unconvincing anyhow. Shizune is perfectly aware that even with the best of luck and some serious stratagem, it's likely that Sasuke will be dead, very soon. Maybe it's for the best. Maybe it's not.

"Be careful," She murmurs into the empty space before her, her voice just ever-so-much-louder than her melancholic footsteps.

The next day, Wing Twenty-Seven, Division Four, Sector B (Room Ninety, Patient: Uchiha Sasuke) is empty.

_**a+o-b+b-o+a-**_

Traffic. Sitting here in the pouring rain, hand propping his chin up, elbow resting on the dashboard, leaning forward carelessly, Naruto can think of many other places he'd rather be. His fingers tap out a faint, repetitive pattern on the steering wheel as he sighs again, letting his thoughts drift. Beside him, a tired voice acrimoniously calls out, "Mendokusee…"

Angling his head a bit to face the dark-haired boy, Naruto grins. "Hello to you, too."

The other merely groans. "It's too damn early in the morning for this, Naruto."

"Midday, Shika." The blond's smile widens, his motions quickening.

A noncommittal grunt answers him, before, "Whatever you do, don't tell me you're bored. I'll be watching the clouds go by…" Shikamaru's train of thought is interrupted by an abrasive blast of sound from their metropolitan surroundings. Jolted awake, he straightens sulkily and curiously peers into the side mirror. It's just An Impatient Tailgater, he notices. As usual. This time of day, this kind of week, and this big of a jam all lead up to a perfectly-abnormal boldness in the city's population. 'Hmm…'

It isn't polite—or typical—to honk at an ambulance. Especially one with two young, overworked members of the infamous graveyard shift unit. "Look, can't we just… you know, turn on the sirens and… skip the dilemma? It'd, unfortunately, be an effort but…"

Naruto makes a face, replying, "Unfortunately? No. Boss, remember. Inspection, remember."

Shikamaru settles back with a heavy whine, futilely fighting to adjust the too-murderous seatbelt and relax. Naruto is back to drumming, and once again, it's another busy Monday afternoon. In the back, shuffling about and humming to himself, there is another man, rolling and unrolling medical tape to the beat. He's of an average height, and slim. Naruto shoots a glance back over his shoulder, biting his lip.

It's been a really, really bad day.

Sai smiles back at him. "Where's that feisty attitude gone off to now, Naruto-chan?"

"…"

"Take a left at the next exit."

The familiar, nearly-soothing rhythms halt. If there's one thing that the blond hates, it's backseat drivers. He'll endure the nicknames, but he definitely doesn't like taking orders, much less following random directions given by some sadistic fool. Behind him, the other boy chuckles and presses in closer, closer… Winding his arms around the seat and crossing them neatly around Naruto. Twitching ensues, as Shikamaru rolls his eyes, yawns, and turns away.

"Wake me up when you've gone and crashed us all. And don't go forgetting: it's a routine check. Nothing to get fired over, okay? What a bother…"

Naruto doesn't nod. He's too busy fighting the urge to gnaw Sai's arm off.

"Well?" The following silence is condescending and breathless, crackling with unspoken animosity. The blue-eyed boy forces himself to slow down, calm down, only look straight ahead, just go steady and avoid any extra contact with the guy…! The tall, obnoxious doctor leans in closer, running a hand through Naruto's spiky hair before rather unexpectedly jabbing the blond's forehead. The car swerves a little, and soon enough Naruto is on the receiving end of shrieked obscenities.

"Damn it, damn it, damn-it-damn-it…! _**Hands to yourself, Sai! **_Get off!"

"I'll take you up on that some other time, dearest Nar—"

The system at his hip crackles to life. He pulls back to listen. "Hey, hey, anybody there? This is Medical Unit One, transmission commandant Haruno Sakura, to Uzumaki Naruto-chan. Anybody there?"

The eldest of the trio sighs, and brings the radio close to his lips. "Sai here. Naruto-chan, you say? Hold." Casting an affectionate, triumphant smirk at the blushing blond, he removes the ear-piece and tosses it over, dismissive and nonchalant. Naruto scrambles to catch it; devilishly, the brunette closes the space and mercilessly pinches at his whiskered cheeks. "Kyaaa, kyaaa, kyaaa, Naruto-chan! So uke! Hot sex in the copier room, three o'clock? Coffee's on me!"

"_**NO!!!**_ Jeez, you're such a pervert." Growling way back in his throat, Naruto glares and slaps the hands away. "We don't even _have_ a copier room! And it's _–kun_!" He protests, under his breath.

"Eyes on the road, Naruto." Shikamaru mumbles, and instantly the hyperactive teen whirls around to correct his erratic pathway. "Che."

Lopsided and teetering at the edge of the seat, the transceiver blares: "Hello? Hello, Boss? You there?"

"This is Naruto, Sakura-chan. What can I help you with?"

"Ara. There's been a fire. Address is 7245 West Ougigata. A big mansion—you can't miss it."

"Isn't that for one of the other departments to handle?"

There is a momentary pause, before the transmission resumes, soft and disjointed. "It was… it was a really big one, Naruto, Shikamaru, Boss."

"…Alright. Be over soon. Love ya, over and out."

"Shut up! Cut the bullshit and hurry it up. Over and out."

The static dies, the sirens switch on, and soon enough the signs are blurring past. Naruto's grip tightens on the wheel, his knuckles bone white, his mouth drawn and shoulder muscles tense. He's utterly focused now, weaving in and out constantly, dexterously. It's morphed into something foreign and soothing, the familiar motions of switching on his turn signal, dodging vehicles of all sizes, trying his best to keep an eye out the motorcyclists and flashy 'stuntmen'. Gradually, he relaxes, breathing deeply, and it's as if he's the only one left in the ambulance.

Then Shikamaru kindly points out, "Missed the exit."

The road beneath him seems to rush by, blurrier than before. Naruto's flooring the pedals again, isn't he?

Perkily, Sai interjects, laughing brightly and reorganizing the standard hanging IV sets in the corner: "It was a left. Told you so."

Oh, yes. A bad Monday, indeed.

* * *

**(A/N: **Yes, I'm aware that this chapter basically speaks of nothing. Sorry for that. Next chapter (which will be much longer, if I can have it so), the action finally begins. And be patient with me: I know absolute zero about hospital systems and fire departments… But I'll try my best to seem knowledgeable, okay? 

On a side note, how was Pervert!Sai? (grins) And no, this will not be SaiNaruSai. He's just a rather… hands-on kind of guy.

**(Preference Question: Short updates, probably quicker? Or longer updates, slow downtime?)**

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**Notes:**

**a—Trademark phrase** of Shikamaru: _mendokusee (how troublesome)._

**b—Past tense** is less definitive. Sorry for the bother, just seemed to suit the angst-dabbled mood a bit better. And now we're stuck.

**c—Themes?** Obokuri Eeumi (Asazaki Ikue) and Mr. Brightside (The Killers)

* * *

**Important Japanese References:**

**-san—**suffix to a name (meaning Mr., Ms., Mrs.)

**-chan—**suffix to a name, primarily for girls (indicates affection, fondness, friendship, et cetera)

**-kun—**suffix to a name, primarily for boys (indicates closeness, comradeship, et cetera)

**Ougigata—**this is not an actual place, and if real, it's used fictionally ('translation': fan shape)

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**Reviews: **

**None. Six, please?**

* * *

**A boy, a fire. A medical anomaly. Disastrous arrangements. Love bites. Anything and everything to worsen his day. **

Look forward to this and (hopefully) more in the next installment,

**Part 2 **

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_**I can hardly believe it. I'm DONE? (I feel like I'm forgetting something.)**_

_**Nonetheless, I'm posting this immediately so I can go back to crazy and hectic updating! YES!**_

**Ja ne,**

**o.O.o.O darkenedmoonlightflame O.o.O.o**

**And company. My adorably annoying muses. 'Kotsu-san and the Sess-sei.**

(P.S. Thanks, once last time…!)

**Chapter Finished: 5.9.07**

**Post: …?**

**Spell Check: Yes. **

**EDIT COUNT? Zero.**


	2. part two

**o.O.o.O**

**infectiO+****n**

**Uchiha Sasuke X Uzumaki Naruto, Uzumaki Naruto X Uchiha Sasuke bias. Shounen-ai and yaoi—don't like, don't read, don't cry.**

**darkenedmoonlightflame**

**[Alternate Universe. Yaoi. Vampirism. "Once he's touched you, the infection—the madness, too—spreads, spreads…" (Uchiha Sasuke is a psychotic boy hung up on the past, cursed with a rare disease that forces upon him sudden cravings for blood. Uzumaki Naruto is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. And now, regrettably, it seems that Sasuke has taken an interest in him…) [SasuNaruSasu. **

_Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, and do not claim to. However, everything else, AKA: the writing, (most of) the (nearly-cliché) plot, et cetera, IS MINE._

(A/N: Sorry that Sasuke isn't totally psychotic yet. I'm sure you've all been looking forward to it. (laughs) On a side note, I know nothing of medical protocol. So forgive me, or please correct me.

(...I really should wait until I finish the third chapter to post, but... (closes eyes, pushes the buttons) I-can't-seeeeee-it!

(So, presenting, infectiO+n, part two.)

* * *

**infectiO+****n**

**part**

**2/x**

* * *

Amongst the smoke, he can see the lights. Red and blue, chasing one another in an endless circle, neutralized by the dull white glow emanating from the flashlights in the distance. There is a man standing at his side, but he is inattentive, jovial and eagerly busying himself with a little orange book. His hands are scarred, Sasuke sees. Scarred and experienced; he's had a tough life, maybe one on the streets. Sasuke can't be sure. 

Startlingly-instantaneous, the man looks up. His uniform is rumpled from the lengthy chase, and his cap in disarray. The surgical patch on his left eye is off-centered, and his little grin is lopsided beneath the dark gray turtleneck he's wearing. "Having fun?"

Sasuke snarls, "Let go of me!"

"Technically, this is a look-ma-no-hands kind of encounter, kid." He is right. Sasuke's mouth curls into an ugly glower, and his arms tense unstably. His wrists are bound, shackled into a pair of ordinary handcuffs. It's ridiculously degrading, he thinks, anger slipping into his narrowed eyes. His limbs shift, shaking with nothing akin to fear. 'Wait, fool.' The silver-haired man returns to his reading, totally immersed.

'Now.' Experimentally, Sasuke tries to rotate his arms, shoulders, fingers, wrists… contorting and forcing the steel into unusual angles.

Nothing works.

More lights, and then he sees _him_. It's a boy, followed by two others, rushing out of the driver's seat of an ambulance. He's disorderly and blond, average height, with beautiful eyes. It's superficial to be so captivated, Sasuke knows, but for a second, he forgets to breathe, forgets to work against his restraints. It's been a long time since he's seen something so vibrant...! Sasuke's used to white, and this boy defies that. But then it all comes rushing back, and he's lashing out despite his disadvantaged position, snapping out a good, vicious stream of kicks at the unconcerned policeman.

The oddball giggles a bit, flushed reddish and leering at his book, his free hand half-heartedly waving aside roundhouses and straight-aways and hazy outbursts of raw emotion. Sasuke is furious. Simply _furious_. This man's very presence is wishy-washy, crude, and subject to much loathing.

His train of thought is intercepted by a loud cry. "Kakashi-sensei!"

A sharp pain at his temple; his vision goes dark.

_**a+o-b+b-o+a-**_

The first thing that Naruto notices is that the mansion is _huge_. It spans nearly two entire city blocks and is a magnificent example of traditional Japanese architecture. It isn't particularly tall, but what it lacks in stature it makes up in artistry. The building itself is very well-rounded, complete with multiple annexes and large, open grassy courtyards. It looks to have been made from a blend of stone and oak, combined into harshly-geometric angles.

The screens are rice paper, in one particular screen's cross-sections, Naruto can see beautiful portraits and inky sketches that draw forth an appreciative ache from within him. They've been drawn with a peculiar precision, an indescribable coldness. They're flawless, and yet Naruto can't help but dislike the monotonous feel he gets from the perfection.

Encompassing the residence is a lawn that is dominated by lush gardens, plotted out asymmetrically. Every single square inch of grass is filled with beauty, whether it is willowy trees and thin trellises or crimson bridges or splotches of pastel and neon blooms. Flowers, flowers…! Everywhere, they've managed to spring up and mingle into a blend of soft petals.

The second thing he notices is the fire itself. A monumental blaze, engulfing the right wing, at the far right. It's close to the forest. Maybe that's why the emergency units are so frantic. This mess has some ugly potential.

Third: at the gates, a sign. **The Uchiha Estate**, it reads, **1759—1804 (built in the times before the turbulent reformation of Japan). Its occupants were an esteemed family of nobles, all of whom perished in an unfortunate event of arson. The manor has recently been restored to its former glory as… **

Fourth: beside the sign, officers and rose bushes stand, side by side. As soon as Naruto sees the blue uniforms, he begins to worry. Sure, Sakura had sounded stressed out when she'd phoned in to report and ask for assistance, but… If it's just a big fire, what's the use in having the police authorities here?

From the corner of his eye, he catches the flare of something metallic. Grayish-silver, like… His eyes widen, and right away, he's unbuckling himself and bolting out the door. "Oi, watch it, Naruto!" Shikamaru is left to catch the wheel and hurl the three of them into the clutches of a violent stop. And then he too can see that a boy is there. They're fighting. The brawl is nothing to the cop, but the feral stranger looks dead serious. Feet barely touching the pavement, Naruto's running, running, lips forming a name… He's too slow.

Pausing to unclip his flashlight and send a mental apology to its owner, he stops and aims. Then he chucks it. **HARD.**

Only then does he see the other man in the ashy clearing. Another professional. The brown-haired paramedic moves to catch the limp body before huffing and stepping back sluggishly. In the crook of his arm, the agitated, dark-haired teenager dangles.

Naruto arrives, panting and dizzied. He exhales noisily before pulling himself together to stand straight and at attention. He wipes his brow as a figurative sign of relief, flashing a guilty smile at the other men. Inside, it's an entirely new tune: 'Score!' He scours the ground, hunting for his flashlight. By the time his partner and superior breach the area, he's clutching it, and the two adults have both schooled a pleasant, blank expression onto their faces.

"Iruka-sensei? Kakashi-sensei? What's the meaning of this, here? Care to fill us in?" Shikamaru doesn't sound the least bit perturbed—he seems to have recovered to a reasonable juxtaposition of fast and collected, apathetic thinking. As usual. Sai's face is neutral, professional now. Nonetheless, his eyes gleam with mirth, although the situation is anything but funny. In his hand rests a medical briefcase, no doubt taken from the back of the ambulance. The blond looks between the pair with confusion.

How can they be so calm?

"Nani?"

Butting in, Sai clarifies, "He said—"

"Che. I have a mouth of my own, Boss." Then Shikamaru sighs, rubbing the back of his neck wearily, before beginning again. "I said—"

"No need to repeat yourselves, boys." Failing to be solemn, Kakashi happily deadpans as motions in reference to the person slouched in Iruka's arms, "You'd best hope that Naruto-sei hasn't given him permanent damage… That, or a reason to fake amnesia." He sighs, and snaps the small paperback in his palm shut, pointing at a corner of the burnt threshold. "I found the guy lurking about over… _there_, and I tried being nice. Didn't work, as you see."

"Still, the situation didn't call for such irresponsible actions! Honestly, Naruto, you should know better than to throw things at people!" Indignant, the blue-eyed bombshell turns to his former teacher, hands on his hips, pout already forming.

"B-B-But, Iruka-sensei…!"

"Iie."

"C-Come on! I was just trying to help Kakas—"

"Quiet!" The brunette snaps, irritated. He's normally patient and kind, but currently he's just enervated and witless. Upon seeing the slightly-injured look flash across his favorite student's face, he calms down and recites a tender apology, resting a hand on the teen's head, ruffling the already-unruly locks. Naruto doesn't even try to push him away.

So what, if he feels like a child? For a boy that has never had parents, it can't be half-bad.

Moments later, the eldest man clears his throat, impatiently cracking his knuckles. 'He must be nervous,' Naruto thinks. 'Or impatient. I wonder why he's so uncomfortable, anyway…?'

"Anou… we'll be heading out soon. Meet you at the ER for interrogations. I trust that we can leave him to you, Naruto-sei, Nara-kun, Sai-san?"

_**a+o-b+b-o+a-**_

The journey back to their second home is fairly uneventful. Along the way, they've picked up several eyewitnesses and disoriented passerby, as instructed. The transmissions have begun again, at regular intervals. It's not Sakura, and so what's said is mainly like, "Try to avoid the Oto Junction." and "Bring them all around to the Southern Entrance. Sixth Wing is open; take the heatstroke cases there." and "All available medical personnel please report to 7245 West Ougigata. Repeat, all medical personnel…"

There's a break in the droning. Naruto's cell phone hums lightly from his back pocket, and he's ecstatic for the change. Too-eager, too-loud, too-erratic, he fumbles for it. All of a sudden, he's become the point of fixation for everyone in the vehicle. Even Shikamaru, the current driver, casts a wry look at him via the rear-view mirror. The others—but one—unabashedly gaze at him, curious. 

And then, just as abruptly, he's embarrassed. Flustered, stuttering, pasting on a friendly, obviously-nervous grin, he flips open the phone and presses **TALK.** "Ara… H-Hello?"

"Naruto! It's Sakura. I'm calling for an update. How bad is it? I've been stuck in the firemen's ward with Chouji-kun and Ino-chan."

The sunny countenance has returned, thanks to the familiarity. "Oh, we're actually heading your way. Some casualty cargo, goggling busybodies, and an out-cold suspect. You know, the usual." His humor fades, and he inquires, "Are the two of them okay?"

"Yeah. Totally fine. It's just that they were one of the first sectors to arrive at the site, and it was a pretty noxious one. They're just checking in for oxygen regulation. Protocol stuff is important to Asuma-san. You of all people would know."

"Hmm. Okay, thanks. Anyhow, I'd better getting going before Shika worries his head off and—"

"_**Wait!**_ I-I… I…" There is a long, long silence. Naruto wonders if the line's been disconnected. But it hasn't, because the rosette then murmurs, "Be careful."

"W-What?"

As the car glides beneath a monorail, there is static, and then her voice is restored. It's hoarse and she's rushing. "Promise me you'll be really, really careful."

"B-But…!"

He's hesitant to agree, but does so anyhow. He convinces himself: 'It's a little thing called blinding trust.' When her voice breaks through again, it's is so filled with relief that guilt from his skepticism overwhelms him, choking him. The perplexed words can't make it past the tightening lump in his throat. Constricting, constricting… And then it's too late to ask why. Although it seems that many a moment has passed—and he's learned to anticipate the unpredictable from Sakura—he is unprepared when, invigorated, she says, "Thanks. Later."

The line goes dead.

Shakily recovering, the blond answers again to the sound of a dial tone: "R-Right back atchya. See you soon… Sakura-chan."

For the remainder of the return trip, the mood is subdued.

Inconsequentially, Naruto can't help but to think that she had sounded scared.

_**a+o-b+b-o+a-**_

The boy's face, although soot-smeared and hidden behind layers of rain-streaked mud, is aristocratic. But he really isn't just a boy, Naruto decides at last. He's too _refined_, too _hopelessly-alluri_—'Good-looking!' He corrects himself hastily.—and far too classy to be any old scruffy, commonplace kid. He might be positively-filthy on the outside, but inside—Naruto is sure that this is true—he is most likely a charming, intelligent, respect-commandeering entrepreneur.

Naruto hopes that he won't mind that they're holding hands.

The patient's cuffs have been removed, and he rests now on a stretcher in one of the lesser yet prominent waiting rooms. Currently he straddles the gap between awareness and inanimate sleep. But personally, the blond considers the very notion of waking him up while simultaneously invading his individualized space to be an irrational, laughable, and plain _**stupid**_idea. Which was, naturally, why he was chosen for the task.

And so here he sits, crouched nervously and altering between bending and hunching and plopping down into a decent sitting position. Their connection—the dark-haired stranger's hand is locked around his, securely—is a painful hindrance. The energetic medic has taken to staring intensely at his ward, if only to keep his thoughts from straying elsewhere. Why did that silly kid have to latch onto him, anyway?

'I'm not _that_ special,' Naruto rants mentally, managing to appear collected externally. 'After all…!'

The nurse at his other arm smiles sweetly at the two of them, and he mock-whimpers, "Hinata-chan! Are you so happy to see me miserable?" The young woman's serene face doesn't falter, and instead she giggles lightly and shakes her head.

"Not at all, N-Naruto-kun." A few seconds later, she exclaims, "L-Look. We're a-all done!"

The orbs of blue trail towards where her hand indicates: a slightly swollen portion of his arm, a few droplets of blood slowly seeping from the site to the surface. With speed brought on by much practice, the girl whisks out a small gauze pack and medical tape, wrapping it tautly around the affected region. "You sure?" He asks faintly. The sight of blood makes him woozy, as does the enormous, nearly-useless—in his opinion—needle she uses to draw the blood. Both are to his right.

"A-Absolutely. I-It's under con-control now. N-No more visits until next w-week. P-Please t-take it easy o-once the c-c-catastrophe is wrapped up."

Trembling, Naruto thanks her.

_**a+o-b+b-o+a-**_

He fails to notice, but the hand around his tightens, if only marginally.

Its owner grins wickedly and licks his lips.

_**a+o-b+b-o+a-**_

At the edge of the devastation, she allows herself to sigh wryly and roll her eyes. Hands on her hips as she surveys the scene, clipboard and syringe in the crook of her elbow and the front pocket of the lab coat, respectively, she makes a cutting remark. "It's about time that boy got out into the world." Her crimson lips stretch, stretch… Across her countenance spreads a wide, terrible smile. Her face itself is beautiful to behold, but still there is something ferocious in it. Something inside her is unstable, uncontrollably clawing at the surface for its very own living space.

She shows no hint of it, instead beginning to laugh. It's a soft sound, an edgy one filled with malice and amusement. Her lips are perfect, _red_ and smooth and pleasantly plump as the corners turn upwards. There are no signs of aging, no smile or frown lines—only a beauty mark at the tip of her cheekbone, set near to the edge of her left eye. Her poker-straight hair is set back carefully, slicked into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her skin is flawless, just a tint above porcelain, but it's her eyes that betray her.

They hold wisdom. Thousands and thousands and thousands of years of cool-witted, cold-hearted, intelligent decisions lurk beyond them. Abruptly, there is contempt, and pride for her work. Then nothing.

She smiles again, laughs a final time, then pulls out a phone to make the call.

_**a+o-b+b-o+a-**_

"_Kami-sama_ this is strange…!" The voice hovering over him—the woman—sounds shaken, winded with surprise. Sasuke really doesn't want to open his eyes now. But with her prodding him and the needles in his side and the IV hooked up to his wrist… That option has become more than a little inconvenient. The intruder leans closer to his face, surely attempting gentle wonder as her fingertips reach out for his pulse. Humorlessly he notes that she is doing what she can do best at this moment—intruding into his personal space.

"Do you _mind_?" Sasuke can't be bothered with eyesight, but his offensive tone doesn't suffer from it. She jolts back, no contact whatsoever established. 'Good,' He thinks to himself. 'It's a start.'

He sits up, ruthless to the machinery around him, waving aside the covers before swinging around his body to stand. Only then do his eyelids snap open, revealing a stunning mixture of prejudicial dislike and the desire to be left alone. In actuality, he's a bit mortified. "Where's my shirt?" His speech is flat, and sheepishly the buxom woman implicates the table beside the hospital bed. Sasuke forgets to say 'thank you'.

He slips into the fabric dispassionately, taking the frays, burns marks, and split threads into consideration.

Out of the blue, the honey-eyed lady tells him, "Sorry."

"What for?" Sasuke won't make this easy. It's not in his nature to treat strangers well.

"The city was unable to obtain your prior medical records, and so we weren't aware of your conditio—"

"Just shut up. I'd rather not hear it." Still, as he searches within himself, there is, once again, no trace of that inexplicable anger he felt at his family's property.

The doctor's mouth purses, and the fine lines on her face grow detailed as she blanches and frowns. Sasuke fights back a grin. He's made her angry, obviously, and is rejoicing in that fact. After a strained absence of noise, she exhales heavily, color returning to her cheeks. Her hand dips into her pocket for a moment, brushing against something small and cylindrical—A bottle, perhaps?—before reemerging empty. "Alright, kid. Listen up. There's two ways to do things around here. This facility is notorious for its strict 'no shit taken, no shit given' policy and—"

"Where is the boy?" It's just come to the brunette's attention that the two of them are alone, save for the monitors and pills. The thought is definitely-more-than-hindering, but over the years he's eventually come to distinguish this kind of irresponsible urge as important. Right now, it doesn't bother him. As for later…

"—so you see, there's a sort of tradeoff going on. It's vital that you agree to treatme—Wait. What did you just say?" Her lecture on the fine points of chivalrous behavior halts, and she affixes him with a mistrusting stare. Her stance is doubtful; arms crossed over her chest, feet set apart, head lowered so that she can glare though her lashes, expression lacking.

"I refuse to repeat myself."

"Hmm." Minutes later, Sasuke's patience is running to an all-time low. Gradually, Sasuke comes to acknowledge the growing, daring smolder that's steadily kindling behind his eyes. He's irritated, yes, but more determined to get his answers than to strangle this woman. So he challenges her instead. Intently, she accepts. "That's unfortunate," She begins, her face a harmonious portrayal of naïve enjoyment. Her perfectly-applied smirk is daunting, her eyes vivacious and mocking. "I'm not exactly in the position to make interpretations at this point, kid."

His fists curl…

The doctor, appeased—"Oi! Tsunade-hime! Oyabun! Oi! C-Chotto matte, Tsunade-hime!" A man's voice interjects, and she forces her mouth to curve in a spectacular show of bravado. A white-haired businessman skids to a halt outside the door, turning the handle sharply and barging in. "Chotto… matte?"

"Jiraiya. What part of _patient_ consultation do you not understand?" The woman's temper is flaring and her pun is bitterly delivered, despite the inhumanly sweet smile at her lips. Caught amongst the doorframe, the visitor begins to fidget with the hem of his frog-print tie. Very unprofessional, Sasuke thinks, but isn't given a chance to complete the thought.

"Ara, Tsunade-hime…! Sorry, sorry, I was just about to m—" 

"**GET OUT!"**

A hurried withdrawal later, Tsunade turns to him. "Gomen nasai, I've lost my train of thought…" She fishing for information, which is pretty witty coming from a total stranger, but he isn't up to taking the bait. The hallway outside quiets; the room alongside it has already been silent for a very long time. Bored, she's taken to entwining her fingers and feeling the joints and ligaments stretch as she manipulates them. She sighs heavily, then announces, "I'd better go." She's barely made it to the door when Sasuke cracks, begrudgingly, eyes fixated on a space somewhere near to hers and storming something fierce. It's an utter turnaround from silence, and it's caught the doctor off-guard.

Maintaining an offhand, aloof-and-distant kind of vibe, he speaks to her, his voice viscous, as if they have all the time in the world to sort this out. "The boy. He's far from normal, I suppose. Blond hair, blue eyes. Loud. Short. He's wearing the outfit of an EMT. His smile… I've never seen it, but his aim is good." Sasuke's description places him as a minimalist—which the woman can already rule out, with confidence—and his posture is relaxed. He's stepped back from hostility, and is instead leaning against the window, face shaded in by daybreak. If she hadn't already classified him as 'heartless', she'd say that his gruff whisper had almost sounded sentimental and, perhaps to a certain extent, wistful.

But she already has; and what's done is done.

"Your purpose?"

Just as slowly, his mouth slips into a smirk, terrifying and lovely all at once to behold. In his throat, a small noise of acknowledgment, low and heady, stirring the air with a gentle amusement that's as far and close to his personality as possible. Laughter? "Then I admit I have no purpose."

His smile belies his words, and Tsunade heaves a sigh. A difficult child like this has no place in her hospital—but the planet resonates with all sorts of people, and as it is such, she cannot always be satiated with her life.

"Concerning your request." He looks up, faintly intrigued with her tangled emotions. "It's denied. But, well, I'm certain that Naruto is _very_ sorry for his actions, kiddo. No need to worry." Under her breath, she grumbles, things like: "He'd better be." and "Brat's wasted my whole morning with this…!" and "Just wait 'til your paycheck arrives!".

The sophisticate's—Tsunade just can't picture this face, jaded and sculpted with scalding dislike as just a rebellious boy, now—eyes narrow. "Kindly notify me when your ideally-shitless facility manages to locate my records. I would like to see them." All traces of expression have vanished. The charming formalities have come and gone. What's left behind is merely a sense of professionalism, halfway off-kilter and halfway dead-on-center; the gears turning in his head and the calculations lurking in his eyes are rather frightening. He is entirely flint now: cold, cold, cold. _Cold_ to everyone and everything around him as he turns to the tubes in his arm, easing them out with air of one who's been around them before. The machines flat-line, and the sound grates on her nerves, but he just turns to her, expectantly, stemming the flow with his other hand. "I'm going to request an immediate discharge. Now is the time for paperwork…

"Tsunade."

The blatant disrespect in his tone bids her farewell, and so she turns to leave. She chuckles a little, fingers on the brass knob for the second time this morning. "Don't get your hopes up. There's an interrogation ahead. You have five minutes. I'll be back in three." As an afterthought, she addresses him and the blood oozing from him. "Band-Aids are in the top left cabinet, by the window. Don't go killing yourself, now."

His trembling hands seem to say, 'Won't you do something? Won't you stop me?' His mouth, gloating, seems to say, '_Can_ you do something? _Can_ you stop me?' His eyes simply say, 'Don't.'

It mystifies her, but it's not precisely the best time to be asking greedy little questions. She's been waiting for far too long, hovering; and besides, the brunette is—once again—a closed book. Smoothly and monotonously, his words are interposed in her mind: "And what gave you _that_ impression? This boy is nothing to me." She begins walking.

From out the door, a melodious reply wafts in. "Of course not." Sasuke swallows hard. Is it possible? Maybe. Maybe she's smarter than it seems. Maybe, just maybe, she already knows.

Indulgence.

* * *

**(A/N: **I've come to a decision, and not about updates. I think that this story should be more slow-paced than some (cough _all _cough) of my others, and so I've split this chapter up. So before anyone gets the idea to strangle the author for not putting the _very best part_ (Come on. All you SasuNaru fans are waiting for the love bite segment, right?) in… Just hold on! There shall be a part 2.5! (laughs) 

Preference Question is still up, you see. But in general, how was it this time? I'm still experimenting with the new writing style. Once again, _**ask**_ if you have a question! Dark loves questions!

(By the way, anyone catch any of the HUGE HINTS in this chapter? Ahem, just checking.

**(Preference Question: Short updates, probably quicker? Or longer updates, slow downtime?)**

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**Notes:**

**a—1759 to 1804—**Okay. Simply put, Japan was in one of the Edo period's later stages, during the decline of the Tokugawa rule. The final collapse wasn't just political—external intrusions into the country and a series of twenty droughts were mostly likely a big contribution to this. This was a time where society was refined and literate, and where the samurai often depended on merchants for their wares. (Please look the rest up if you are curious. I'm trying to avoid posting an enormous history article here, and what I did have planned out, I forgot. Sorry. But any necessary facts that may come up _will_ be referenced and explained.)

**b—(grins) Avoid the Oto Junction**, huh? Sorry, sorry, lame to bring it up again. Once again, no idea of how hospitals work. But I'm pretty sure that after a bad fire, firemen need to get breathing regulation of some sort, right?

**c—Why did I use** 'Tsunade-hime' in my writing? Mainly because that's what Jiraiya calls Tsunade in the series, so yeah.

**d—An EMT is **an 'emergency medical technician'. (The ambulance drivers! But clearly these people take care of many more serious, life-threatening issues. Good work, men and women!)

**e—Themes?** (Kyaaa, thank these _big_ time! They cleared up my thought blockage!) Arigatou! (Home Made Kazoku) and On Top (The Killers) and Bones (The Killers) and When You Were Young (The Killers, again) and the spiffy new Bleach Winamp skin I found yesterday. (grins)

* * *

**Important Japanese References:**

**-sensei—**suffix to a name, usually meaning 'teacher' (Ex: Iruka-sensei is something like 'Teacher Iruka')

**Oi—**hey

**Nani?—**What?

**Che—**this is more of a sound, typically a scoff that can show exasperation

**-sei—**here I've made it a suffix to a name, meaning 'companion' (Ex: Naruto-sei is 'my companion Naruto')

**Iie—**no

**Anou…**—well…, erm…, eh…, ah…, er…, um… (et cetera)

**Ara**—ah

**Kami**—God

**-sama—**suffix to a name, usually indicating respect or noble birth

**-hime—**here I've made it a suffix to a name (originally, it's just 'hime'), meaning 'princess'

**Oyabun—**chief

**Chotto matte!—'**Wait a minute!' or 'Wait a sec!' or even 'Just a minute!'

**Gomen nasai—**a more formal apology than just 'gomen'

* * *

**Reviews: **

**Thanks to you all: **lunarxshinobi, darktulip, Just Subliminal, moonwillow (Don't worry, here's your update! And thank you for your interest!), fierymetis, Ayumi666

**Your feedback was love! (smiles)**

* * *

**A boy, a fire. A medical anomaly. Disastrous arrangements. Love bites. Anything and everything to worsen his day. **

Look forward to this and (hopefully) more in the next installment,

**Part 2.5 **

* * *

_**I can hardly believe it. I'm DONE? (I feel like I'm forgetting something.)**_

_**Nonetheless, I'm posting this immediately so I can go back to crazy and hectic updating! YES!**_

**Ja ne,**

**o.O.o.O darkenedmoonlightflame O.o.O.o**

**And company. My adorably annoying muses. 'Kotsu-san and the Sess-sei.**

(P.S. Thanks, once last time…!)

**Chapter Finished: 7.2.07**

**Post: …?**

**Spell Check: Yes. **

**EDIT COUNT? Zero.**


	3. part two point five

**o.O.o.O**

**infectiO+****n**

**Uchiha Sasuke X Uzumaki Naruto, Uzumaki Naruto X Uchiha Sasuke bias. Shounen-ai and yaoi—don't like, don't read, don't cry.**

**darkenedmoonlightflame**

**[Alternate Universe. Yaoi. Vampirism. "Once he's touched you, the infection—the madness, too—spreads, spreads…" (Uchiha Sasuke is a psychotic boy hung up on the past, cursed with a rare disease that forces upon him sudden cravings for blood. Uzumaki Naruto is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. And now, regrettably, it seems that Sasuke has taken an interest in him…) [SasuNaruSasu. **

_Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, and do not claim to. However, everything else, AKA: the writing, (most of) the (nearly-cliché) plot, et cetera, IS MINE._

(A/N: Here it is: what you have (or have not) been waiting for!

(So, presenting, infectiO+n, part two point five.)

* * *

**infectiO+****n**

**part**

**2.5/x**

* * *

"Anou… Shika? Lately I've been wondering about this, and I think it's a good thing to worry about, but… but I figured that I'd ask you first, right? What with you being so goddamn smart, something's got to come out all right because of this—I just wasn't sure how to go about it all, and that's why I'm doing this _here_ and _now_ in the hospital and not at home, just because it's really, really urgent! And so here I go…! Ready, Shika? 

"…

"Shika?

"Are you listening to me, Shikamaru?" There are footsteps in the hallway, he notes, the kind that are excessively-clusmy but trying so hard to keep silent. His expression sours as he deduces that it's best to pay attention this time. He knows that this kind of pain medication only serves to cancel out her others and unnerve them both. He tunes in, too late.

Still no reply—not even a hebetudinous mutter about how women are 'troublesome' and life is 'troublesome' and that the two combined are 'just about the worst kind of troublesome'—and Ino's delicately-placed, extra-sweet smile is about to crumble into a wave of madness. "SHI-KA-MA-RU!" Approximately, her thoughts turn to the burial of the lazy boy, who merely cracks an eye and grunts in her general direction.

The lingering air of disinterest dispels as he adds, quietly, "I'm listening."

Heaving a tiny breath of relief and stringing the rest of a series of tiny, plump paper dolls together, Ino shifts her arms back for a moment to admire her work. "What do you think? Will Chouji like it?"

"Yes, woman. Chouji will like it. But he'd love food even more."

"_I know that!_" She snaps, annunciating each and every syllable with a deadly accuracy that pins the steady paramedic into a corner. Ino is upset, and her mind is fogged and unusually-distorted, so she rants on from her place on the hospital bed. Her hands are clenching, fingers constricting upon the paper even as Shikamaru lightly disentangles it from her, cradling it in his lap. "Of course I know that! It's probably okay for him to eat now, but… But I'm just too concerned about what the doctor said, you know? Pulmonary irritation! Carbon monoxide poisoning! Ara, I'm… I'm just—"

"It's fine, Ino. I get it." His tone hasn't changed. Removed, clear-headed, he's already begun to analyze the situation, to think of the best way to diffuse it. 'Mendokusee…!' Shikamaru can think of many things, but perhaps confrontation is the best method for now. "So, what was it that you were saying?"

"Hmm?" The blonde girl—her current state has placed her on par with someone much younger than her—has moved on to the next distraction now, and is combing through her hair with her fingers. Her grimy fingers; a chill runs through him, for he knows that Ino would never, never, _never_ do this. But this person before him isn't really Ino, fidgeting and faltering and gloriously-petty.

He bears with it. "You said that you had something to ask me. Something **really, really urgent**." If he could just jog her memory, yank those fingers away from heir absentminded ministrations and keep them at rest in his own…!

"Okay. Got it! Thanks, Shika. I'm sorry for being a little odd today. What a fire! What a mansion! So beautiful, and all the smoke was just… atmospheric, I guess! There's no other way to put it!" She giggles a little, as if this were funny. He stays silent, focused. "Oh. Ara. The question, the question…" Tapping her lips, she forms a rhythm, humming daintily to herself to fill the noiseless void.

"It's about Naruto-kun." Very suddenly, the euphony stops and her voice is determined to be heard, stony and cold. "I've been wondering. It's not fair of me, I'm sure, but I just can't help but wonder if he'll ever c—" There's a violent sneeze from outside in the corridor before a few more footsteps sound, then stop altogether. The door wobbles open, and they both start up in their seats, flinching as the hinges creak and the wood grates against the doorjamb.

"…Hi?" Immediately, Ino's enamored eyes turn to the teenager caught in the entranceway. Literally—his bright orange scarf is hung up around one of the many loose nails that seem to pop up, bordering the trim. Blond hair, blue eyes, flustered face; one look is all Shikamaru needs to confirm that this is, indeed, Uzumaki Naruto.

"Nice of you to join us, Naruto." The easygoing genius retains his stretched-out position across the visitor's chairs until Ino violently makes room for one more. "Hey…!"

"'Hey' to you, too, Shikamaru, Ino-chan." The hyperactive boy greets them both, before less-than-elegantly catapulting into the settee, squirming to find a comfortable position. Curious, he motions to the brightly-colored origami in the older boy's lap. "You told me you didn't like dolls, Shika…!"

"I don't. These are for Chouji."

There is a pause: Naruto's mouth has formed into a small 'o' of surprise. Then, without an ounce of discreetness, he asks, "How bad is it?"

_He'll be okay, right?_

"Depends on the angle."

_I don't know._

Naruto's voice lowers, his feet drawing closer, his head drooping a bit, his hands entwining. He mumbles to himself unintelligibly, then louder to demand: "And Ino?"

_How is she?_

A shrug is his only reciprocation.

_I don't know._

"…"

_Sou… sou ka._

Forcing himself to look happy—and failing miserably—isn't his forte, Naruto knows. It's just the notion that Ino will be sad, that he'll disappoint someone who depends on him, that'll he'll be seen as dodgy, that he'll have even one vulnerable second, that it's expected of him to smile… Everything builds, until out comes the bubbly, euphoric, maniacal grin, flourished only by the absurd way in which he snaps out the scarf melodramatically in advance, setting it up as a hat, ridiculously-angular on his head.

Whisking the art away from the immobile brunette—with incredible care and a grace that neither of them had quite thought him capable of—he announces, "Alright, then. If it's alright with the lovely lady Ino and the superbly-smart Shikamaru, I'll go and deliver these good intentions personally!"

"You look ridiculous!" Ino bursts into hysterics, baby blue eyes tearing up and pale skin flushed with amusement and delight. It's a heart-wrenching sight, not because it's wonderful or pure, but because it's rendered sincere by the pinnacled sunlight. "What a sight for poor Chouji! Tell him that Ino-chan will buy him all the barbecue he wants when he's all nice and better. Tell him Ino-chan wants a visit, too! And Naruto?" In an instant, her gaze is sharp, and he's hopelessly lost in fields of ice. "Promise me you'll come back. Here. To me."

"O-Of course, Ino-chan!" He's scratching the back of his head again, so-very-nervous, face scrunching up in a mixture of confusion and reluctant embarrassment. She leans closer, stretching up and tilting her head slightly to the left, her eyes never leaving his. She tucks back the hair around her ear, and only then does Naruto understand. "…I promise. I'll be back soon."

A moment later, the door is wrenched closed, rattling the very walls and shaking her to the core with its reverberations. She watches it for a while, hands playing with the embroidered sheets, muted in their actions. Her lips exaggerate a pout, disagreeably-disgruntled and misleadingly-flirtatious as she flops back into the pillows he's set up for her. Her arms cross in front of chest tautly, eyes dancing from place to place in the room, finally settling on him. They're cold.

But her expression softens then, and before Shikamaru's given a chance to over-think things, she's beaming again and beckoning to him. "Shika, Shika! Won't you please go with him?" He won't be able to say no—they both know this. Wearily, the man stands up, massaging his neck and raising his chin slightly to acknowledge her request.

"As you wish."

The door closes again, less energetically, but the effect is the same. Alone, she closes her eyes to think, hands unsteady yet resolute in their movements as another sheet of flowered paper is brought out and put on the tray.

_**a+o-b+b-o+a-**_

He's waiting in the hall, immobile as she shuts the door behind her with a heavy heart. She sighs heavily, before bringing up a hand to shade her eyes under the bright glare. He doesn't dare say a word as she begins to stride toward him, brisk and unusually wasteful with her effortless movements. Her lips pull down and her timeless face switches gears, now distasteful as she orders for elaboration, "Care to explain?"

Sly, he chuckles, unfolding himself and altering his classic mannerisms into a slightly-more-presentable stance. "Gomen, oyabun, but—"

"And he says?" Her tone is sharp, tiptoeing over pins and needles—tension is pooling in her shoulders, steadily travelling the length of her arms, down to her fingertips, which are crushing the thin stack of papers in her hands. The clipboard crackles, ringing out voluminously as it bangs into the drywall. Since when had she been leaning forward? The doctor shakes her head clear of such distractions, and focuses solely on him.

'Tsunade-hime is so impatient!' He thinks to himself, 'If only I could have drawn this out a bit longer…!'

Jiriaya's impulsive grin flickers a bit, before he abruptly drops the pretense. "The Board would like to see you, preferably soon. They're anxious to examine your findings." In her capable fists, the pencil she's been cradling so-very-tenderly ruptures into four separate but equal pieces. "Oyabun—Tsunade… I know that you, ara… aren't too fond of our fellow geezers, but it's your duty to report to them, as Chief of Staff. You know that."

"Yes, I know that, you pervert. That boy is different, so _of course_, so _naturally_, they're interested! It's always the same story with this world of ours! Frankly, I'd be nowhere if not for…" Her face darkens, and Jiraiya fruitlessly attempts to divert her attention to other matters, waving his arms dangerously-close to her personal space as an aggressive, foolhardy wakeup call. There's something about this situation that he doesn't like, something that's driving him to plain stupidity, something that's driving her insane—and, as a result, perplexing him. Luckily, she spares him from more torment, stirring from the groupings of chronological memories in her mind—carefully filed away into a rarely-accessible space of thought—and smacks his hand away. Even if it's just a casual warning, it's a start towards normality. At least this is the influential, manipulative, conniving, saké-stealing, Jiraiya-beating, Naruto-doting woman that he's come to know.

Finally, she shrieks, flinging the clipboard aside and scattering the vestiges of their painstaking research, as if coming to an all-important epiphany. "And who the hell're _you_ calling old, anyway?"

Jiraiya muffles a smile, feigning the urge to closely examine a certainly-frog-filled portion of his tie.

_**a+o-b+b-o+a-**_

The room isn't dark. Contrarily, light is everywhere—glittering across the marble table and reflecting glossily against the airy white ceiling and peachy walls. The windows are the kind that open out, bay and elaborate and beautiful, expensive beyond compare and marvelous to behold. Across the room is a mirror, and instinctively Sasuke knows that it can't be trusted. Nothing in this room can.

The vibe he's picking up on is far too innocent. Inside himself, he is seeking the bloodstains, eyes unfathomable in their darkness as they simply graze around the vast space, from object to object. Although there are few things here, Sasuke won't give in. He won't relax, no matter what. In the mirror—he loathes to see it—is his face, glowering back at him, too-thin, too-pale, too-Sasuke, too-unloved. He refuses to look. This room, particularly the distance encompassed within it… It's sending off warning signs left and right. His body screams for release, screams for escape, screams for him to end it and just _say something, __**goddamn it**_—but another fraction of him protests. Pride keeps him stiff against the bulwarks that mar the prettiness of the window.

The men before him are impassive, unfeeling. It chills him to see that the woman is worse.

The door is very far away, he thinks.

"I shall repeat the question, then." The voice is unmemorable, lacking in many qualities, the least of which being warmth. The gray eyes that stare him down are like pebbles: flinty, dispassionate, and perfectly rounded into their sockets. His hands are folded before him. He sits ramrod straight, excluding the slight forward angle of his head. "What is your name?"

Dreary silence, as the echo dies down. The man amends his siege. "Where are you from?"

"…"

"Why do you deny yourself treatment? Have you any prior knowledge of your affliction? Anything will help."

In his mind, the boy whispers something biting, something sardonic.

"What is your purpose?"

Sasuke, although it is completely illogical and beyond all rationale, is compelled to answer.

"I want… I live for…"

The room chills, hushed with intensity, shrinking by the second. If he hadn't been so absentmindedly-awaiting the end, Sasuke would have smirked, devilish and perfectly in sync with anything and everything unsettling to these people. He would have stepped closer, assertive to the extreme, pushing off of his little patch of wall, altering the bleak shadows, stirring the nonexistent emotions within himself to manage a reply. Something desperately-bloody, desperately-truthful, desperately-haunting.

But reality is drastically different.

Instead the point of entrance swivels, admitting one and one only. The doctor gives him a quick once over—'So these freaks really aren't too reliable, ne?' He ponders the matter.—just to be safe, before proceeding to her chair at the far left of the table. All nine chairs have been filled, and so it's time to begin. But the woman… Tsunade, wasn't it? She stalls, burnishing the moment with a flurry of whitish papers and charts in muted colors.

"The beginnings of our results indicate an anomalous disease, all right. An infection, better said. But the weird thing is that we haven't seen anything of these likes for… for years! Maybe a few hundred, if the records kept by the previous facility are anything to go by. We'll have some serious thinking to do. No inquisitions have taken place." Sensing a brewing interjection, she quickly adds: "Review the charts first—I had a few staff members suit up and take samples of the site. Air, dirt, whatever you want to call it. There's also a few hours of data our there, you know: the standard respiratory and cardiovascular junk, his intravenous therapy liquids, bits and pieces of brain activity. Ara. A bit of blood work out there, too!"

Sasuke narrows his eyes. Definitely illegal. Recall it, or escape? He refuses to stop and think. Since when have his instincts failed him, anyway?

Under consideration: "Oughta keep the bastards busy for a while." Thoroughly sanguine, she turns to him, sadism at the tip of her tongue. "Don't trick yourself into thinking you're done. Consider it a temporary reprieve, and get lost before I have the orderlies pick you up. Go _straight back _to your room, okay? Trust me, I'll know if you've done otherwise." The blonde pauses in her ramblings to ask, misleadingly-innocent, "Enjoying yourself? How was it, kiddo?"

Pettily, Sasuke scoffs at her, crossing and uncrossing his arms, glaring from beneath lowered lashes and gritting his teeth. "Regrettably, a waste of time." The door is open, and he's impatient to leave. Just another moment, and…!

She grins cheekily at him, waving him out and off. "Call it an introduction, then."

_**a+o-b+b-o+a-**_

"You don't have to."

Naruto peers up at him, wordlessly and softly untangling the scarf from his hair, handing the origami-human chain to Shikamaru. His mouth is pressing into a thin line; he swallows hard, trying to stop the overwhelming sensations that force upon him thoughtlessness. His lips part, and they're dry. He runs his tongue over them briefly, doing it all in a noncommittal yet focused way, before gulping again.

No effect—his arm still throbs and his throat is still prickling with that uncomfortable, lumpy, all-choked-up feeling. 'Confess, confess…!' His traitorous mind hisses. 'Confess!'

At last, he murmurs, "Hai… I don't have to."

It's all fine and dandy, presently, and so the two merely stroll along down the beige hallways, accompanied by the sounds of tranquility and passive life. There are the machines, too—a symphony of machines, chiming different tones each and all beeping and responding to separate, important things—but they've become used to that particular noise. It's just another quirky attribution of the job.

Sighing heavily, the dark-haired paramedic runs an analytical eye over the younger, figuratively and metaphorically trying to unlock him. It's getting harder and harder, he realizes—Of course, perhaps that's the way that this is meant to be…—but he tries hard not to think about it right now. Naruto will give in when the time is right. Speaking of which, he's come to a dead stop and is talking again.

"Anou sa, anou sa. Shikamaru? There's this weird feeling. I haven't seen her—_them_ in a while, and it's just all this change at once, piling up. I never want to see anyone that close to me cry, ever again, and it's like the world is pressing down on my chest, all of it at once and so hard that I can't even catch my breath! I think they get it, and that scares me more than anything… but I kinda want for them to know, to notice. So I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is nonsense and I wind up pushing everyone further away! And I'm sorry if this all is a bunch of shit and it's irritating you, but we've been partners for a long time and there's this sort of invisible trust between us and—sugoi, this sounds stupid! I-I just wanted… well… for you to understand, I guess…

"…Still."

The brunette turns to Naruto, something akin but not quite equal to curious apprehension written all over his face. It's a bit difficult to see, mixed in between the lethargic expression and neutral pose and not-too-unduly-compassionate eyes. Then it's the lips—chapped a raw pink but angled with some measure of effort into a tiny but fervid frown—which must give it away. "Hmm?"

"It's been a long time, since I've been able to voice this, to admit this, but… I just really don't know what to say anymore."

"…" A sadness flickers across the blond's face, eyes darkening, deepening, pooling into the kind of cosmos that ordinary people lose themselves in. To Shikamaru, they seem gray. "Mendokusee, Naruto…" he breathes, reaching out on a whim, resting a hand on the other's shoulder, whispering the words to them both. "Then just don't say anything."

The genuine smile he receives in return is rewarding, engaging, and utterly distracting just because he's hard-pressed to look for it. Just as suddenly, there's a scoff. Naruto's expression breaks off abruptly, and he swivels to cast a withering look down the corridor. A flash of recognition, and then it's back to his regular, fairly cheery countenance. A boy—it's just a mere boy, Shikamaru thinks to himself, a guy around Naruto's age—stands there, openly rebellious to the notion of tenderness.

"Ossu." His companion's voice is guarded but not necessarily unfriendly.

In the back of his mind, there is an apology forming—he really hadn't meant to fling that heavy piece of metal quite so hard, but what's done is done and he might as well try to make up for it with a pleasant word or two. The butterfly stitches look dastardly against that type of complexion, laid starkly against that type of blossoming red blood. As if Naruto's thoughts are an everyday broadcast, the familiar face disappears; Sasuke swipes the back of his hand across his cheek, smug and slow as if to say, 'You've shamelessly been staring.'. Naruto bristles.

The eldest of the trio is a bit taken-aback, but eventually decides to survey the situation from a distance: it's what he's always been best at. The fathomless orbs from down the hall are taunting. Feisty and defensive, the blond at his side then calls out, "Are you looking for something?"

"Not my choice of words, but…" The dark-haired teenager steps closer, empty-handed, a charming smile playing at his lips. Veiled in his optics are calculations, computations complex enough to rival even the greatest of his theories, but worse. The eyes of the intruder are dead, and that's what scares Shikamaru most. "I don't believe we've had the chance to meet properly, now have we…?"

Naruto snorts. "Sorry, I don't speak Polite. Aren't you supposed to be resting in one of the spare rooms?"

"Yes, probably. But what's it to you…? Has having your head in the clouds left your clumsy body behind to establish such disappointing first impressions? I should think so, dobe."

Internally, Shikamaru groans. That's really asking for it.

_**a+o-b+b-o+a-**_

It won't be long, Sasuke is sure of this. And he is right in every sense as the boy lurches towards him, drawing back a bruised fist with every bit of ruthlessness his hotheaded frame-of-mind brings him. Halfway down the hall, the blond snarls—"Don't call me that!"—and the distance between them is cut in two. Already. It's only an instant before they're face to face, staring the other down, blue into black, anger into subtlety, man to man. Sasuke grins faintly, taking the first punch with an air of masochism, undisturbed by the brute force tossed hazardously into the atmosphere.

It's nothing to him, and the flaxen-haired youth is too distant to mind. Naruto's face is feral, teeth bared and eyes clouded with fury that can't be meant entirely for Sasuke. Steadying them both, the brunette drinks in the deliciously-wild expression of bewilderment with a near-comical intensity. His hands, as if of their own accord, flow to grasp the fist of the paramedic as it plows through the intimate little space between them. They've arrived at a deadlock, so the motion is not wasted, and Sasuke's lips arch into a grim smile as he leans closer to murmur, "Tell me. Who is it you think of?"

Naruto flinches as the impassive grip on his hands tightens, as if to mock the situation's worth.

"It's… none of… your…_** business**_!" He grits out, unable to help the rawness of his throat as he screams out the final word, maneuvering himself away and slamming a knee up against the diaphragm of the other. Sasuke falters, gliding back a few steps, one hand clutching at his stomach as if in contemplation, its partner entangled in the collar of Naruto's EMT jacket.

"That's hardly fair." As if it's as natural as his heartbeat—which occasionally isn't very much so, at all—Sasuke's glare sharpens and he drags the resisting body to eye level and crashes a fist into the junction between his collarbone and arm socket.

"G-Get over it! Teme!" Cursing the quaver in his voice, the blond lashes out, catching the dark-haired patient square on the jaw. Within moments, an unknown fear wells up, dreadfully-suspended and terrifyingly-unfamiliar as it informs him: 'You've just made a huge mistake.' His opponent's eyes flare red—but Naruto brushes it off as a trick of the light and instead takes the second to reconsider giving his heartfelt apology.

But by now, Sasuke has finished his deliberations and ruled that first impressions can go to Hell, as there is absolutely nothing intriguing about this boy. "Yeah?" His arm hauls back before surging forward and meeting the blond's sternum; a sickening crack, and unexpectedly, the form manages to elude his grip. The paramedic swears softly to himself, winded, and Sasuke—choosing to play the role of Respectable Gentlemen—stands down politely. Straightening himself out, sweeping away the nonexistent dust from his sleeve, and snapping off the yellow tag that identifies him as a patient, he prepares for the next conflict of wills. Fortunately, he isn't made to wait long.

Bustling about, avoiding one another in a dance that's been around for as long as either can remember, the boys are past the point of connection and legitimate misdeeds. By chance, they've made it this far; there is no 'yesterday' in Naruto's vocabulary and no way to forget for Sasuke, so this is _it_ for them both. A flurry of blows and an interception from Shikamaru later earns the cleared-out hallway a snarled "Stay out of this!" on the blond's behalf.

Absentminded and not caring, Sasuke notes that the attendant—spiky ponytail, exaggerated frown, overprotective stance, same-old-same-old—has retreated and stands with a white-knuckled hold on the radio, agitatedly disclosing the situation, jumbling it up into some kind of nonsense as he speaks into the grainy, crackling black grid. It's impossible to tell just what he's squabbling about with the receptionist, thanks to the white noise obscuring every aspect of his hearing. Sasuke sighs and looks away.

"It's been a long time since I've seen vibrancy, and I knew you'd be stubborn... but I was wrong about you."

Naruto is recovered at once, up and invasive, muscles tense as he slips into a homey stance, fists at bay. "Oh?" The inquiry is curt, and neither lingers to waste time with formalities meant for another place and person, instead charging forward or waiting in indifference. Retrospectively, Sasuke probably shouldn't have prolonged it all. But maybe it had been something strong kindled in those endless blue eyes that kept him feeling obliged.

'You most certainly are not what I wanted...'

Minutes later, they've disengaged and are apart. The dark-haired boy's gaze is even—mussed-up hair, chest rising and falling sharply, eyes _alive_ with the moment—at the boy who seems to bask in the glow of their incomplete battle despite the crimson at his mouth and hands. Without a word, Sasuke turns to leave, hands in his pockets, blood seeping from his own grievances.

There's no point in further association with these two, according to his petulant sense of duty and his rising thirst. Nothing to gain—he's lost out on the informative aspect of the rendezvous—and certainly nothing to lose but a bit of reputation-centric grandiose. But pride has always been an insurmountable obstacle, to him. So he elaborates: "Simply put, I really don't have time to waste on you two. Perhaps we could finish this some other time…?" Now come the 'negotiations'. Sasuke braces himself for the worst.

"…Haa." Naruto is leaning against the wall for support, head tilted back and angled to the right, eyes piercing as they affix on the deserter. They're burning, or so it seems, lost in a world all their own and dragging Sasuke in with their intensity. The medic is gasping for breath, cheeks a brilliant red but calming down, pressed into the cool metal frame of an unknown doorway, hand contused into a not-thoroughly-bloody-enough shield over the center of his chest.

It's not important, really, but Sasuke can't help but to wonder for how long they've been arguing, and why Shikamaru's backup hasn't arrived yet. He's almost clear, absolutely-yes-indeed far down the corridor, but a shaken voice halts him: "W… Where the _hell_ do you think you're going? Starting something… and then bailing out…"

Amicably, the brunette twists his head a little, as if to look back. It's now or never. Something, anything, to get this boy off his case—Honestly, he _does_ have time to spare, but is it worth it to stay here and risk relinquishing control?—must be said. He's never been one for limits, but it's been quite a while since he's worked even this hard. The air is tainted, coppery in smell and thick in taste; it's tempting him, Sasuke's positive. It's true that he can no longer feel the throbbing of his left arm; his knuckles are bruised, of course, but the damage is still too vague for him to heed. And it's true that Naruto is coughing, coughing…

"Sorry, I don't speak Hesitation." It's clear that his derision hasn't been taken into stride with the blond—there is a pitiful dragging sound, some abnormally-labored breathing, and then a hand on his shoulder.

"Then this is your last chance, smartass. Please… Take it back, what you said earlier."

"But it's the truth," Sasuke retorts, his tone steadily lessening in its scorn and gaining in preoccupation. The boy is **still bleeding**… but at least he hasn't fully overstepped the boundaries, even if he's shot down and overstayed Sasuke's hospitality. Naturally, the teenager's next words catch Naruto's attention, so mocking, baiting him to reply with any measure of compassion. "Just look at you, standing there, being so nice. Life isn't kind." Sasuke shifts, slapping away the humane warmth with a savagery that rings throughout the vacant halls, carefully positioned so that he may watch the reaction. "…Especially to people. Like. You."

Promptly, a hand is at his throat, "You coward. Accepting the facts won't get you anywhere! Fight them! Haven't you heard that there's no rest for the weary? So stop your stupid personification and make your own way in this crowd of people like _you_!"

"I've never been particularly great at running, thanks." It is at this point that Sasuke grins, wickedly, accepting the accusation whole-heartedly as cause for a bit of permanent scarring and hooking a leg around the other's ankle and tugging. No leeway, and Naruto is soon enough making use of his free hand—supporting himself, holding the dark-haired guy in place: it's one and the same now. Sasuke returns the favor, moving towards the blond, firmly settling an arm around his shoulders, its coconspirator seizing the appendage locked around his jugular and yanking it off to the side by the wrist.

Naruto inhales sharply, surprised by the sudden change-of-heart Sasuke's performed. "What are you…?"

"Doing?" A shiver is sent down the paramedic's spine, as the undertone is hot on his neck, different in a way, whispered into his ear sensuously, its owner pressed close. Suddenly he's aware of every little flaw about himself: his ears have never been delicate, his hands were always a bit too awkward for fine work, he hasn't shaved since Sunday, he blushes too easily, he forgot to comb his hair today, his shower gel is kind of girly…! And it puzzles him. Why should his stomach be in free fall? Why should his knees be trembling? Why should his fingers spasm and his eyes widen and his mouth dry? Why should he even care in the first place that some stranger is just-about-hugging him, besides the obvious violation issue?

He must have been hit. Again, and hard on the head. _He must have been._

"No need to get so choked up, _Na-ru-to_." Annunciating each syllable of the learned name, Sasuke smiles coldly to the expanse of creamy flesh before him. And then he, too, stiffens. Yes, Naruto is **still bleeding**, but now he's closer than ever, and there's a line of blood smeared from his mouth to his cheek to the underside of his jaw to… Sasuke hesitates. The lifeblood is tantalizing before him, emblazoned on the throat of the one in his hands. 'A little… it's been so long… And I'm tired… It won't hurt him to give, I'll make sure… and if not…'

Before he can doubt, he's already lapped at it and his teeth have sunken into a place on Naruto's tender neck. Dimly, he refuses to register the pained yelp and collapse of them both, drowned in primal instinct as he straddles the younger, pinning his wrist and smashing his shoulder to the granite beneath them. The blood is burning a path down his throat, ever-more-fulfilling than he could have hoped, divine in its bitter, metallic tang.

An eternity later, there's footsteps and distressing Havoc in Naruto's mind—Shikamaru is wrenching his arms with the effort to pull Sasuke off, and there are a few others, too, following safety protocol a bit better as they try to pry away the human on his chest. It's an odd sensation, as if he's been lifted off and away to the outskirts of the situation, stilled as orderlies swarm down onto two poor men in the center of a hospital, left to watch it all go down.

Sedated by the prospect, Naruto's struggles cease until he rests limply in the hold of Sasuke, eyes half-lidded and a misty teal as the jerking of the aides only serves to aggravate the wound site, heightening the initial hurt. "Get… off… of me… you teme…"

A needle, a hasty injection—without delay, the dark-haired boy feels his strength bailing out on him, his fingers slackening, every last muscle contracting like a tightly-coiled spring before rocketing him into utter relaxation. All of this against his will, as the tranquilizer begins to take effect and the men hoist him off of the blond and restrain him. Sasuke's sure that his eyes are a dead give-away but can't bring himself to distress over the topic, allowing them to swirl a heartless red as he takes in the state of his current prey.

'Naruto…' He can still see the gory mark—his handiwork—on the other's throat, profusely saturated in crimson and prominent as the boy labors to sit up, using the sleeve of his jacket as a compress, body shuddering. Briefly, Sasuke ensnares those eyes, reeling them into his own, enchanting them. The drugs are a hindrance, he deduces, as the 'spell' breaks not a moment later, and Naruto's optics widen in recognition, molten.

"_**YOU BASTARD!**_"

'Will be…' Sasuke smirks permissively, even as the impending darkness corners him and sends his thoughts spiraling and his consciousness sprawling. Arrogant and Inveigling, he emphatically runs his tongue across his still-bloody lips, making sure to locate Naruto amongst the mess his mind has created with colors and memories. "Mine."

Ashen, Naruto fails to notice the string of beautifully-crafted, lovingly-made, dauntingly-colorful paper people at his fingertips.

* * *

**(A/N: **This chapter a pain to write! And still the 'fight' was like… (pulls at hair, pops stress ball) Gyah. So much reworking in general, and I'm still not exactly satisfied with how some of the parts turned out (And don't worry if everything doesn't make sense yet. It's only part two and half, after all!), and so I'd really appreciate it if everyone told me what they did and didn't like about it. ONE THING YOU CANNOT COMPLAIN ABOUT: length. It was a semi-long wait. It is a long chapter, compared to the last two times. (grins) 

I'm having a really bad day today, and I am very much behind where I'd like to be, despite my birthday being Wednesday, but the blatant SasuNaru-ness of this chapter's end made me happier. Your comments make me so happy, so please, at the expense of a moment, make me feel better?

**(Preference Question: Short updates, probably quicker? Or longer updates, slow downtime?)**

* * *

**Notes:**

**a—Pulmonary irritation** in this case is simply irritation on the lungs, as indicated by the 'pulmo-'. This goes hand-in-hand with carbon monoxide (this _can_ be caused by house fires and is incidentally the "most common type of fatal poisoning in many countries") poisoning.

**b—Origami** is the Japanese art of paper-folding. I can do some things, like a flapping crane, inflatable ball, and star box. No Santa Claus, sorry. (But, somewhere, I do have an instruction book with him in it…)

**c—Long story short, **my sources say thatthe Chief of Staff is the physician elected to be 'top guy' amongst the doctors. There is the Governing Body (Board of Trustees) who are responsible for the quality of care (in here, they're completely whacked-out and they rule over treatment and inquiries, too). The link between them is the CEO-type Vice President for Medical Affairs.

**d—Butterfly stitches**, now called SteriStrips, I believe, are sticky little strips that close up small wounds and "encourage the skin to heal".

**e—"Accepting the facts won't get you anywhere, dattebayo!"** I didn't want to ruin the moment in the chapter, but here it's a totally different story! BELIEVE IT!

**f—"I've never been particularly great at running, thanks."** By this, Sasuke intends to imply that Naruto isn't fighting the cruel hard evidence, merely that he's running from it.

**g—I tried to characterize **Naruto's response to Sasuke's 'hug' as fittingly as possible. I figured he wouldn't get the way his body was reacting, imagining himself to be a straight young man (insert fangirly cackle) and therefore deducing that he had been clubbed on the head one too many times. This was a fun part to write! Sorry if I down-played Shikamaru a lot in the second half of this; I don't think that he'd just step out of a fight like that, so I tried to make it seem more natural with the endless call for backup and the random attack later on.

**h—Themes?** Phenomenon (Thousand Foot Krutch), A Thousand Miles (Vanessa Carlton), Welcome to My Life (Simple Plan), Heaven's a Lie (Lacuna Coil), A Hundred Years (Five for Fighting), Numb (Linkin Park). Lots of music, hmm.

* * *

**Important Japanese References:**

**Sou ka?—**Is that so? (rhetorical) It may be interpreted as 'I see' in some cases.

**Oyabun—**chief

**Anou sa—**hey (Not quite sure on this one. Feel free to correct me.)

**Sugoi!—**wow!

**Ossu—**a greeting typically used between men that are good friends, meaning 'hi' or 'yo' (This is one to take note of, considering who it was said between.)

**Dobe—**literal translation is closest to 'dead-last', basically meaning 'idiot' (The first pet name given to Naruto by Sasuke, oh my…!)

**Teme—**bastard

* * *

**Reviews: **

**Thanks to you all: **Just Subliminal, fan girl 666, Astromelia, anon (Ah, yes. But at least you were pretty polite about it all. So in touch with your inner feelings, I guess! Here's your update.), moonwillow (Whatever you're confused about, I'd be glad to explain to you. Just let me know what it is, and I'll start blathering. Ah… so nice! (smiles) And it was no problem, you and everyone deserve it.), marina-uzumaki potter, angel61991, Foufi (Mmm, thank you very much! Compliments make me shy, but I love them all the same. Eheheheh, we'll see what you think after this chapter… But here you are, and thanks for your opinion!), Ayumi666, SpunkyHellKitty

**Your feedback was love! (smiles) On a side note, we've just topped one thousand hits! Sugoi!**

* * *

**Arson, interrogation, the Wrath of the Blond(es), a reunion of friends! What's the difference? **

Look forward to this and (hopefully) more in the next installment,

_**I can hardly believe it. I'm DONE? (I feel like I'm forgetting something.)**_

_**Nonetheless, I'm posting this immediately so I can go back to crazy and hectic updating! YES!**_

**Ja ne,**

**o.O.o.O darkenedmoonlightflame O.o.O.o**

**And company. My adorably annoying muses. 'Kotsu-san and the Sess-sei.**

(P.S. Thanks, once last time…!)

**Chapter Finished: 8.6.07**

**Post: …?**

**Spell Check: Yes. **

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EDIT COUNT? One. I tried to rework portions of the dialogue in the fight scene. Nothing too major, but perhaps a more sensible change here and there.


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